Blind Sight
by Light of Polaris
Summary: Nettle is a blind acrobat traveling Tortall among Players. In Corus she has an unexpected encounter, bad or good? Who would have thought that the girl she saves from being strangled is the younger sister of the Rogue's right hand man? Read&Review!
1. Prophetic or just insane?

Version #2.0 I reedited a minor detail in this first one to keep up the consistency of the story. Hope you like this fic, I'm having a lot of fun writing it because it presents such a challenge. Looking foward to all of your wonderful reviews!

Disclaimer: Is it required to put one? I just do it because in every fic I've ever read people put them in there. Well, it's true that all the characters besides the ones you don't recognize are Tamora's. This fic, I'm pretty much just borrowing her setting though, I think. I might have some old characters in it in the future. Won't tell you which ones though. So any character that is not Tamora's is mine and no matter how much you're going to love my main male character, he's also my own little fantasy and mine alone (jk). What a long-winded disclaimer. On to the good stuff!

*~* Nettle *~*

Flying through the air, connected to the world by only a swing. My worries, my problems, my life are easily lost in the exhilarating feeling of weightlessness. The air rushes like wind though my hair, across my face. Reaching out with my Gift I can sense the platform coming up and deftly release my connection to the world and become an enemy of gravity, rolling through the air, landing steadily on the platform. The roar of the crowd sitting comfortably in benches below greets me as I make my dive onto the net ready to catch me. I sense every person in the room, every shift of their bodies as they watch me summersault and then lithely crouch on the net.

"Ladies and Gentleman," I hear Goral's booming voice, "Netty Diver!" Applause, bow, applause; this is the part of performing I could do without. I like to hear the crowd _while_ I'm performing, not after. I want to _see_ the crowd's reaction to my performance, which even if I wasn't blind I wouldn't be able to see while on my swing.

"Good job, Netty!" Berry, our talented costume designer tells me. My real name isn't Netty, of course, that's my stage name. My real name is Nettle Grey.

"Thanks, Berry. Did I look alright to you?" I think the only thing Berry likes about me being blind is that I can't protest the outfits she puts me in because, well, I can't see them. Sometimes I feel the dress doesn't give enough support and ask her for something different but most of the time I wear whatever she happens to create.

"You looked fabulous, as usual. I think we might have something going with the blue and green. It contrasts those red curls of yours. Now if only I could do something with the cowlicks." I feel a pang in my chest at the mention of colors. I don't blame Berry for forgetting but, it still hurts to think about. There's nothing I want to see more in the world than color. How I long to know what red, blue, and green look like. Simple words that can be used to describe anything in the world. I may be able to sense the proportions of things but the exact details elude me, like color and shape.

"I'm sure you did a great job, Berry, but I have no time to chat. I want to eat my supper and get to bed. We have a long trip tomorrow and I want to make sure I'm well rested. Goodnight!" I give her a quick peck on what I hope is her cheek and Sight my way to nourishment.

My Sight is confusing sometimes, hence the reason I never leave our camp. Everything has a signature, though I wouldn't be able to tell you exactly what that is. Once I sense something I'll be able to recognize it later. I don't see the locations and shapes of things in my mind, I just know if a door is coming up or someone is approaching. Depending on whether or not the signatures of either are familiar, I might be able to tell where something leads or who the person is. People are harder though because objects such as chairs have a similar signature to other chairs making them easily identifiable whereas people are all different each having a unique signature of their own. Very confusing, so Goral made it an official rule that the camp be set up exactly the same every time so I know where I'm going.

It is in this manner that I find myself in the dining tent among the other Players. Goral really outdid himself with the food tonight. It seems like I'm eating everything ever made. I can't tell exactly but I recognize the signature and taste of seasoned pork.

The chatter seems unusually loud tonight. I wonder what all the buzz is about. I turn to Goral on my right.

"Goral," He doesn't hear me but I can't see why, "Goral!" I raise my voice a little and sense him shift towards me.

"Yeah, Netty?" His voice is the happiest I've ever heard it.

"What's the occasion? Everyone seems really happy." I sense the hand a second after it hits my back, a little too hard.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard. This is for you. Your performance turned out the biggest crowd we've ever had and that means the biggest sales." This new voice belonged to Irial, my best friend.

"Ow." I throw my arm at her but miss when she shifts slightly, curse her, she always knows. Then I realize what she said. I feel the heat rushing to my face.

"Would'ya look at that, Irial. She's blushing." Goral says. I might've tried to hit him if I knew what a blush was.

"If by blush you mean heat rushing to my face then yes, I am blushing." Putting my fork down, I push myself up. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to get some rest."

"Okay. Goodnight, Nettle." I feel Irial's arms circle around me and she gives me a tight squeeze. "Get some sleep, Netty." She whispers. I hug her back and then move toward the tent entrance.

Walking in to my tent, I reach out and brush my fingertips across the smooth surface of my hand mirror, lying on top of the chest where I keep my personal belongings. I have no use for a mirror, of course, but I like to keep it around just the same. It belonged to my mother before she left. My only regret about her leaving was that she left me with _him_, my abusive stepfather.

Then I hear the whispers. Reluctantly, I draw my hand back. I hate the whispers. I take off my clothes and slip on a nightgown, the whispers steadily getting louder. Holing up under the blanket I try uselessly to block them out. I know it won't work because I've tried it before. This happens often before bed and sometimes when I'm traveling or practicing. It irritates me to a point where I snap at people. I can't tell them why because what would they think of a blind acrobat who hears voices? Nothing very nice, I wager.

The whispers are completely unintelligible and I have no idea where they come from. Perhaps it's part of my Sight or something. If so, it's one thing I haven't been able to master.

I know that I'm not going to get much rest tonight so I rest my head on the pillow of my bedroll and try humming a lullaby to myself. The voices usually stop around dawn, so it surprises me when they stop all of a sudden. I cut off the lullaby mid-bar, startled. The second I stop, the voices start again. I resume humming again and they stop again. Interesting, I wonder if it's the lullaby itself or just humming that makes it stop.

I change tunes and the voices come back. I hum the lullaby and again they disappear. Well, at least I can get a peaceful rest now but I am going to bring this up with Irial tomorrow, her being the only person I've told anything to about the voices. For now, I keep humming and close my eyes, relaxing. Minutes later, I fall asleep.

On the boat to Corus the next morning, I follow the sense of Irial's signature to what I believe is deck. It's hard to tell. _Especially_ since I'm blind. I hate boats because of it. The boat rocking back and forth, things constantly shifting, is very annoying to navigate. As I get closer I start to sense other signatures around her. I hear her graceful voice among the voices of deeper, more gravelly tones. Sailors, I assume.

"Irial." I think she's listening because I sense her shift towards me.

"Good morning, Nettle. I thought you'd gone overboard, you took so long with the horses." She says.

"Hazelnut requires quite a bit of attention. Thank you very much." I say sarcastically.

"Mithros! You and that horse. I swear if I didn't know that you were best friends with me, I would've thought your horse was your only social connection." It was her favorite thing to complain about when I spent a long time with my horse, Hazelnut.

"You know she doesn't like boats. It doesn't sit right with her stomach." I try to send what I hope is a glare, in her general direction. It's like hand-eye coordination; I might know where someone or something is but that doesn't necessarily mean that I can pretend I'm looking at it. Sometimes, as Irial loves to laugh and point out, I'm way off. Apparently, talking to empty space is an extremely hilarious event that can be brought up at breakfast, lunch, and dinner and be laughed at over and over again.

"You just have so much in common. Congratulations! I hope you two will be very happy." Sometimes her sarcasm can be _very_ annoying. Like now, for instance. I step closer to her. At least I can do _that_, and smack her arm, lightly.

"What? It's not like you can disagree."I gesture discreetly to the signatures or what I believe are sailors that linger still.

"Oh right. Talk to you later boys, maybe. Bye." Her arms moves up and she moves it back in forth in what I realize is a wave as we walk away.

"I figured something out last night." I start. We are in a cabin below deck and being in close quarters like this makes me queasy. Walls impede my Sight and that results in my claustrophobia. It's like being really, _truly_ blind, being cut off from the one thing that allows me to survive.

"And that is?" I realize I've been quiet for a beat too long.

"The voices. They stop when I hum this lullaby I made up." Times like this, I wish I could see people's faces, to see their reactions.

"Goddess. How did you figure that out?" Her voice sound kind of, I don't know, excited yet serious.

"I was just humming to block out the voices and this lullaby that I'd been playing in my head all day popped into my head. Once the voices stopped, I started to experiment and it seems that this lullaby stops them. Kind of like blowing out a candle." Then it starts to dawn on me that this could be a major discovery. If I can turn off the voices now, maybe I can try to experiment again, and actually _understand_ them.

"I can't believe you're just realizing what this means _now_." It may seem like she's reading my mind but really she's just reading my expressions, which having no experience with, I can't hide.

"Not fair, I wasn't really thinking about it. I'm more nervous about our show in Corus. Goral said King Jonathon himself might come to see it." My voice sounds shaky, even to me, as it comes from my mouth. The crowd will be fairly large in the capital city.

"Alright, I'll give you that one but you have the _Sight_! These voices could be prophetic or something, who knows?" Her shoulders lift in what I take to be a shrug. "Oh and seriously? The King?" Contemplative to excited again. I swear she has some emotional disorder.

"I don't believe it but that's what Goral said and prophetic? I don't know about that." I say and hear an answering sigh.

"I hope the reason you don't want to believe either is because you don't feel important enough." I hear a sound like _tsk tsk_, "such little self confidence." She's wagging a finger at me. I think that's supposed to admonishing. She's right though. A blind acrobat who had a horrible childhood, prophetic with a performance worth being seen by a King? Yeah, right.

"Well, even if the King does show up, it's not like I'll know. I haven't Seen his signature before." I've never even been to Corus at all. "Besides, we're here." I say as I feel the ship start to slow.

"Fine, but don't think I'm giving up." She stands up and offers me a hand. "Do you need help getting to the inn?" She asks. Glad to finally get out of this enclosed space, I nod and then follow her on deck.

Usually we make camp outside the city were performing in but a building in Patten District was offered for our use so Goral decided to take the offer. Now, riding on Hazelnut I'm shocked by how many people live here. Every, what Irial tells me is a street, I sense more and more people moving around. It never seems to end.

Irial opted to walk instead of riding a horse before we left the ship and decided to lead my horse for me. I lean down and try to talk over the bustle.

"How many people do you think live here?" I ask as our group of 30 or so Players turn onto another street.

"Good question. I think there's about eight hundred thousand." She says evenly.

"How do they all _fit_?" I ask disbelievingly. The signatures of these buildings tell me how close they are. There's barely enough room for someone to walk between them.

"Another good question but I have no idea. It amazes me too." She pauses for a moment then speaks again, her tone much lower, "I wish you could see these colors, Nettle, it's so beautiful."

"I wish I could, too." I whisper. We travel silently until we reach the inn. I dismount easily and grab Irial's hand. I'm going to have to have someone with me at all times during this week. Hopefully, I'll make it to the finale in one piece.

Irial leads me up to a large room that we'll be sharing. I put my stuff down and explore, asking Irial the names for things I don't recognize. When I get to the bed I gasp at the softness. Laying down, I take a book out of my pack.

"I'm going out for a minute. I'll be back." She moves towards the door. "Will you be all right?"

"Yep. I'll be right here when you get back." I hold the book up. "I'll just be reading." She leaves and I'm alone.

Goral had found a set of books for blind people when he was in Corus last. The raised letters are small and I run my hand over the words, easily deciphering their meanings. This book is about a Princess who is cursed with sleepless nights when she accidentally insults a great mage. She spends all day and night in her room vainly trying to capture the bliss of sleep. After a month of this she hears music playing in the courtyard outside her window one night and falls asleep. Joyful, she runs and tells her father in the morning. He had been searching fruitlessly for the mage who cursed her and this news gave him hope. He made a decree that the man or woman that played in the courtyard the previous night would be given anything they asked for if they would play their music for the princess every night. I'm just reading the part where a few musicians step forward all claiming that they played for the princess when Irial walks back in.

"Did you have fun?" I ask as she takes off her coat.

"Yes! This city is absolutely amazing! I _have_ to take you to the market tomorrow. I saw this one dress that would be _perfect_ for your finale!" Uh oh. She's gushing. Nothing good ever comes of her gushing.

"Are you sure? I might get lost and who knows what dangers this city has." I have never been to any of the markets in any of places we've been to and I'm reluctant to leave familiar territory.

"Relax, I'll be with you the whole time. Now come on, it's time for dinner." Wait a minute.

"Dinner? How long have I been here?" I look towards the window even though I know it won't give me any clues.

"Obviously you haven't moved since I left and that would mean you've been here for about four hours." She plucks the book from my hands and puts it on the nightstand. "Let's go."

After dinner I go back up to my room and change into my nightgown. Irial said she was going to stay downstairs for a little bit longer. I'm just pulling up the blankets when I hear the voices again. Curse it. I had them last night. I'm about to start humming when the sound of some sort of instrument drowns me out. The voices stop but I don't notice. I'm listening to the beautiful sound coming from my windows. It's a tune I don't recognize but it's soft and sad. Almost like a lullaby except it's faster. I feel myself drifting to sleep with each note. I don't fight it and fall into the welcoming unconsciousness with the story of the princess who couldn't get any sleep and the musician who helped her.

* * *

Ooooh lovely ending, if I do say so myself. I hope you've enjoyed this first of many chapters. It would show that you enjoyed it even more if you press that little button at the bottom and send me some acknowledgement that I'm not writing to some alien species that happen to be the only things in the universe that enjoy my fic. Oh the horror! Come on, take pity on me and REVIEW. I don't want the aliens to come dissect my brain to find out how I write this crap. Thanks for saving my brain to those of you who review! XD ~Polaris ;)


	2. Powerful People

_I feel myself drifting to sleep with each note. I don't fight it and fall into the welcoming unconsciousness with the story of the princess who couldn't get any sleep and the musician who helped her in my mind._

Never, never again. Why did I let myself be dragged to the market to go shopping? Irial is a madwoman when it comes to shopping! We are at a little tailor's shop in the Day Market at the back of the store where they have little stalls with curtains you can pull across. I'm standing in one of these trying on the dresses that Irial hands me since the dress Irial said was 'absolutely perfect' has been bought by another customer. I have tried on at least fourteen dresses. Irial is examining the fifteenth one.

"Can't we just have Berry make something for me?" I whine as Irial rejects it.

"No offense to Berry, her dresses are amazing and all, but I want something with a little Corus flair." She hands me another dress.

"What about what I want?" I say as I pull another dress over my head. It pinches my sides and I can feel the hem around my ankles. "This one is too restricted and too long, we'd never be able to tailor it right for the performance. Help me take it off."

"And I liked this one too." She sighs, "Alright Netty, what kind of dress do you want?"

"Finally! I want something that has just enough support for my peaches and made of a light fabric. Oh and it also has to be short and…affordable. I've saved a lot but not enough for something real expensive." She throws a dress at me. I barely catch it.

"That was quick. Hey! Why didn't you give me this one before? I could've skipped all those other dresses!" I say indignantly.

"You didn't tell me before and I was having too much fun to ask," she says with little remorse. What a wonderful friend I have. I try to frown in her general direction as I pull this new dress on. The straps settle comfortably near my neck and I can feel the hem swishing around my knees. Perfect! It's also light and my peaches don't feel like they're going anywhere.

"How much is it?" I ask. I'd hate to have to put it back if it costs too much.

"One silver noble." She replies casually.

"What?" One whole silver noble? That's at least a fourth of what I have saved up. Plus the cost to get it tailored for an acrobat is maybe another copper noble. "I can't get it, Irial. It's much too expensive."

"Are you kidding? Of course you can get it. I'm paying." I'm shocked, plain and true.

"Why?" I squeak. As far as I know, I didn't do anything special to deserve a gift like this.

"Because you've been working real hard lately without asking for anything in return. I thought I should do something for you," she mumbles. I reach out and grasp what I believe is her arm. I can't help but give her a huge, bone-crushing hug. Irial is always so thoughtful, even though she seems like a bubbly airhead sometimes. She returns the hug in kind and then it turns into a contest of who can squeeze the other harder without going overboard. I win.

"I…give…up," she says while trying to catch the breath I squeezed out of her.

"Ha! When will you learn that these arms are stronger then evena hillman's?" I ask her jokingly.

"You can be so mean to me sometimes." I'm glad to hear an underlying hint of humor in her voice.

"We're sisters. It's my job." We're not related by blood, of course, we're just closer than best friends. Trust me, I wouldn't have wanted her anywhere near my family while my stepfather lived there. Now's not the time to think of that stuff, I remind myself.

"Come on, we need to get back to the inn now." She helps me take the dress off and carries it to the front of the store while I change back into my sun dress. Irial says it's blue with little kittens chasing birds around the hem. I wish I could imagine that.

I finish changing and meet Irial at the counter. The tailor is saying something, "…four days and it'll be ready."

"That's fine. We'll stop by then. I'll give you half the money now and when I come back for the dress I'll give you the rest." Irial answers. I can't tell what the lady thinks of that but I hear a sharp intake of breath and then I sense a somewhat reluctant nod. Irial gives her the money and, with that, we depart for the inn, Irial holding my hand.

All the movement and general madness in the Day Market gives me a headache because my Sight can't catch up to it all. A sudden spike of pain in my head makes me stop and rub my temples but the second I do, I'm bumped by three people and my hand is wrenched from Irial's.

"Irial!" I shout as the crowd sweeps me away. I start to panic. "Irial! Irial!" I know my voice sounds hysterical, but I can't stay calm; I've never been in a situation like this before. I sense where people are and dodge them well enough but I don't have any idea where I am-Irial's signature is getting too far away.

The voices start up again, practically crushing my mind, which is already weighed down by a headache. I start to cry. Then what I recognize as an alley appears close in my Sight. I head for it, dodging two children, I think, and finally making it to safety. I know I may not really be safe but I sag against the wall in relief. Relief to be out of that insane crowd.

The tears come faster now and I put my head between my knees to stop the shaking and to lessen the headache. When I've stopped crying and my breathing slows, I hum the lullaby and the voices die down. On an impulse I change a few notes. The result is the voices returning, but quieter and faintly decipherable.

Four chimes, ambush, alley, girl, two men, very near! Help! The last part has my head spinning with the force of it. What does it mean?, I wonder. I try to look at it from Irial's perspective of prophetic. If it was indicating a future event, then I can assume that 'four chimes' means the time, 'ambush' is probably of the 'girl' by the 'two men' in an 'alley' somewhere 'very near' and she needs my 'help'.

This seems a little too easy. I thought prophecies and such things were supposed to be a little bit more cryptic. I can't find any other meaning, however, so I'll just have to settle for this one.

Somewhere nearby…rather than chance the Day Market again, I head down to the other end of the alley. Not as many people are passing by on that street. It feels like a nice soothing balm for my overworked Sight. I reach my sense out to encompass all the alleys that branch off this street. Finding the signature of the alleys is easy enough, narrowing it down will be harder. The voices gave me a strange hint though; faint signatures had accompanied 'two men'. That's what I'm looking for right now.

I feel pressured, like there's some kind of time limit to how long I have to look for these men. I narrow it down to four alleys, three-I hear the chiming of a clock somewhere start- two, there! I run towards it as the second chime goes off. There's a girl approaching the mouth of the alley, her signature is also familiar.

"Wait!" I call out, she turns towards me but she's too close to the alley. I can sense the men reaching out to grab her. She turns her head in their direction and screams. Suddenly it feels as though a filter has been lifted. My Sight sharpens and I can sense the exact movements and positions of the men. I can even sensewhen they blink. They're grabbing the girl by her neck and arms. They're going to strangle her! I make it to the mouth of the alley while the men are retreating farther back. One of them raises his head and I sense his eyes move in my direction.

The girl lets out a choked scream. The men cover her mouth and continue to hold her throat. Not enough time for me to get help. I take a running start and spring myself over the men, doing a small summersault. They let go of the girl's throat, startled.

"Two on one, now that's not fair. I thought they at least had some real men in Corus, but all they have is weaklings, judging by you two," I tell them mockingly. I want to get them riled up so that they'll come after me and drop the girl. These two must not be really bright because it works.

"You may be able to do some fancy flying, wench, but I don't think you'll be able to stand up to brute force," he says while he cracks his knuckles. That is just disgusting. I try not to wince from the sickening cracks. The girl is left on the stone floor of the alley while the men approach me. I turn and make a run for it, slower than I usually run, to make sure that they are following me. They are. I try to go fast but not too fast because I don't want them to completely lose me.

I head for the Day Market even though it will give me a headache again. I burn the signatures into my mind as we pass so I know I'll be able to find my way back to that alley to help the girl after I get rid of these loobies. I rush into the crowd and the idiots bumble behind me.

I should be getting a headache right about now but I don't. My heightened Sight is keeping tabs on everyone and everything, while I can still process it. Every twitch, every bat of an eye, is what I can sense right now. It feels exhilarating.

In a rush, I do a back handspring over a wagon of vegetables. The men, excuse me, the clumsy, uncoordinated, fools try to jump it. The first one makes it almost all the way but then his foot catches on the side closest to me and he falls face first in a pile of scummer. The other one gets a mouth full of veggies.

I take the chance and turn around, giving the wagon a wide berth and keeping to the side of the crowd. I follow my mental path back to the alley where the girl was. I find her slumped against the side of the alley, coughing.

"Hey, are you alright? Should I get someone for you?" I ask softly as I crouch beside her. Inexplicably, I feel my sharpened Sight fading back into the coarse Sight that I've always had.

"I'm..." she coughs and continues, "fine. Just need…time." She breaks down coughing again and I reach my hand to where I think her back is and rub it gently. Oh how I long for the other Sight back. That was such an amazing feeling. I sit there for a while, just comforting, until she stops.

"Thank you…?" She's asking my name, I think.

"I'm Nettle Grey. And you are?" I ask in kind, hoping dearly that I'm looking at her and not five feet to either side.

"Myra Mailey. I really appreciate what you did for me just now." Her voice is smooth and sounds mature. I wonder how old she is.

"It's no problem. I was just," I hesitated, "passing by and I saw those two men in this alley. They looked real suspicious to me and that's why I told you to wait."

"Ah, so that's how it happened." She didn't sound entirely convinced but she didn't sound like she was going to push the matter either. An awkward silence follows. She breaks it.

"Would it be too much to ask for you to escort me home? I don't feel safe right now." Now that she mentions it, her voice isn't as smooth as I thought it was, it has a note of tension in it.

"That's fine but, you'll have to lead the way. I can't…I'm blind." It seems to me that this time the silence had more of a shocked air to it. I had to tell her because I don't think alleys have a lot of light to see by and my eyes probably aren't that visible.

"Then how did you…?" she asks, sounding confused.

"I have the Sight, I can sense people's signatures and things. Nothing is precise or completely clear but it's better than nothing." I'm pretty sure she nods.

"That makes sense. Alright then, follow me. You'll be able to recognize those men if they come by?" she asks a bit shakily.

"You mean those dimmer-than-a-dog idiots? Yes, of course. I wouldn't have agreed to being your escort if I couldn't," I tell her matter-of-factly.

"That's great. My brother is really going to want to meet you." Her brother? This can't be good. But it's not like I have much of a choice so I guess I'll just follow her. Maybe they'll tell me how to get back to the inn.

Myra leaves the alley with me close behind. I mark the signatures just in case I need to come back through here. As we go it seems that the buildings get closer and closer, if that's even possible. We walk until we reach a building that has more space than the other buildings have between them. She goes inside but I hesitate at the door, hearing the raucous laughter that usually accompanies drunk men and maybe even women. Myra realizes I'm not following and turns back to me.

"Come on, Nettle. I want to thank you properly. I just have to find my brother first," she says gently. My expression must read like I'm scared, which I am.

"I hate to ask you this, but can you, uh, take my hand?" I feel embarrassed for asking but this place is too loud and rowdy.

"Sure. Whatever you need, you just ask." Now that she's where she wants to be, she sounds more confident and comfortable. She takes my hand and leads me across the room. Three men, I think they're men, sit around a table near a fireplace. Myra leads me straight to it. A chair scrapes back quickly and crashes to the floor.

"Myra!" The man of the right's voice. I feel a slight tug on my hand as the man, maybe, embraces her? It seems like one.

"What happened?" One of the other men, the one sitting directly in front of the fireplace, in the biggest chair. His voice is full of authority.

"I was ambushed by two of Luis' goons. Nettle here," she tugs on my hand, "saved me from being strangled. I brought her here so I could thank her properly." My face flushes and I try to hide it by putting my head down to face the floor.

"Look at me, please." The man standing up says. He still has one arm about Myra's shoulders.

"I can't," I whisper. Luckily, Myra speaks up.

"She's blind, Lucas, she can't see." I like Myra. She's very understanding.

"Oh, well, thank you, Nettle. I apologize if I offended you. I really appreciate you saving my sweetheart over here," Lucas says. Ah, so they're in a relationship.

"I thank you for saving a valuable member of my Court," the man in front of the fireplace says. Court? What's he mean by that?

"Welcome to the Dancing Dove, Nettle. Let me introduce myself, I'm Nathan, the Rogue of Corus." I gape in his direction though I fear I'm looking a little too far to the left. The Rogue?

"And this is my brother, Maric Mailey, also the Rogue's right hand man, and the best fiddler ever seen in Corus." Myra introduces the man sitting closest to me. He stands up, walks over to me and places both of his hands on either side of my face. I get the feeling he's looking into my eyes. The personal contact makes me blush and try to pull away but his grip is firm. I feel helpless when people try to look into my eyes like this. Like they find my disability interesting but they don't understand what the feeling is like.

"I can't see you even if you stare directly into my eyes like that," I say quietly. He releases my face and backs away. Times like this, I wish I could see people's expressions. I want to know what his face looks like right now.

"I just want to get back to my inn, is there anyone who can take me there?" I ask louder so that the others can hear.

"Oh, Nettle, it's too late for you to go home now. The suns about to set and I don't want you walking home in the dark even with one of these lumps. You can stay in my room for tonight." I hadn't realized it had gotten so late until now. Staying with Myra wouldn't be so bad I guess. My only worry is Irial—she must be going nuts trying to find me.

"Could you send a message to my friend Irial? She's probably going crazy." I ask. The Rogue moves his fingers, I think, and a man parts from the crowd and comes over.

"Take a message to Blue Moon Inn over in Patten District saying that Nettle Grey is safe." The man nods and leaves. I stand there, shocked. How did they know the name of the inn? And my last name?

"You're the blind acrobat Luis wants," Maric speaks for the first time. His voice is very low pitched but I barely notice. My mind is spinning with the question; who's Luis?

* * *

Who is Luis? If took me a while to figure that out and that's why chapter 3 took so long. If you liked this one, you'll definitely like the next one! Oh and can you guess who the main male character is? You've just met him. Try and guess! I think I made it obvious though. Ah, who knows. Please continue to keep my brilliant mind away from alien dissection by REVIEWING! It would be much appreciated. Thanks! ~Polaris ;)

P.S. Jk about the aliens. Everybody knows they don't exist. Or do they? Dun dun duun...


	3. Poison and Awkwardness

Yes, I know there was a very long delay between the previous chapter and this one but I think I needed a break even though I hadn't been updating much anyway. ARGH! I am so mad at myself. Anyway, there's a few things I want to mention before you start reading, I changed Robin's name. It is now Maric. Keep that in mind. I just wasn't happy with it before and decided to change it. I kind of like this one better. Sorry it's so abrupt. I'm going to change it in the previous chapter as well seeing as he is still a pretty new character. That's it so, enjoy!

* * *

_"You're the blind acrobat Luis wants," Maric speaks for the first time. His voice is very low pitched but I barely notice. My mind is spinning with the question; who's Luis?_

My face is really like an open book. Maric is definitely the cold and intelligent type, he seemingly reads my thoughts when he responds with, "Luis is an upstart mage that thinks mages should control the city's thieves," he tells me. His deep voice holds a note of disgust. "He's been trying to kill Nathan here for years."

"What would he want with me?" I ask in a you-better-answer voice.

"Despite being blind," again with that hint of disinterested curiosity, I feel like slapping him, "you have the Sight and you're an acrobat. If someone were to teach you to fight, you would be a very formidable opponent," he explains.

"How does everybody know who I am?" I practically yell. I'm getting so frustrated here. I don't even know these people and yet I'm embroiled in their war and politics. I've been only been in the city for a day and a half, for Mithros' sake!

"You don't know?" Myra asks, surprised. Not her too!

"Know what?" I ask suspiciously.

"Your name is everywhere, Netty Diver, the famous blind acrobat! I didn't realize who you were until now because of your stage name but the Rogue's sources never lie. Everyone is Corus knows your name, your show is that spectacular. I myself am a big fan, I already bought the tickets for Friday's performance," she says excitedly. Now she's sounding like Irial.

"W-what? I'm not…I can't be…I never…that's impossible! I can't possibly be _that _good!" I tell her, shocked. I've only been performing for a little over a year and a half. It doesn't make sense.

"I didn't take you for a no-self-confidence type of girl, Nettle. I don't think even Nathan could have summersaulted over those goons like you did." Myra's words are a little comforting but my mind is still in a whirlwind over this bit of information.

I sense Myra move away from Lucas and I feel her grab my arm, gently.

"I think you need to rest, Nettle. Let's go upstairs, you can borrow one of my nightgowns," she says as she leads me towards stairs in the corner of the room. I nod distractedly, still trying to puzzle out how I could become so famous and not know it. A scary thought pushes itself to the front of my mind, what if my step-father comes after me, now that I'm so famous? He might try to take advantage of our unwanted relationship, try to claim me and make me perform so he can take all the profits.

It's too much. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I start shaking as we travel down a long hallway.

"Nettle? What's wrong? You're trembling." Her voice is concerned as displaced air drifts over my skin indicating she's moving closer to me. I shake my head and try desperately to calm myself down.

"It's an irrational fear. He won't come to get me. He doesn't care. He never did." I choke back a sob. I can't do this here! Myra is nice but it doesn't change the fact that I only met her a few hours ago. I can't burden her with this, this sob story about my life before I joined the Players. I need to do something. Something acrobatic. It's the only way I'll be able to calm down.

"What are you—" I cut her off.

"Do you have rafters in your room?" I ask shakily, barely above a whisper. Silently, but I'm pretty sure that's from confusion, she leads me up to a door and opens it. Immediately I sense the wooden beams crossing the ceiling. It's perfect, there's just enough space between the rafters and the ceiling.

I don't ask permission, I cross the room and climb onto the bed. Standing up, I pull myself on top of the wardrobe in a rush. I reach my hands up to grasp the rafters but my fingers meet empty air. I send my Sight out above me and sense that I'm maybe a few hand-lengths short. I'm going to have to jump. Bending my knees in accordance to how far I'll have to jump, I stretch my arms out as far as they'll go, launch myself up, and feel my hands wrap around the rafter above the wardrobe. I can already feel myself calming down.

I swing myself back and forth a few times and then fling my legs over the next rafter so that when the rest of me follows, I'll be sitting down.

"Nettle? Are you all right now?" I almost forgot about Myra. How crazy I must seem. Still, I can't really tell her the reason for my insane little fit just now.

I position myself so that I'm hanging from the rafter by only my feet before I reply. "I'm fine. I was just feeling a bit uncomfortable. Doing acrobatics always calms me down." My blood's rushing to my head and my ears are ringing but I still hear the arrogant voice speak quite loudly from somewhere near the open door.

"Well do you mind doing it in someone else's room?" He asks tonelessly.

"You know, I don't like you very much." Just being honest.

"Why is that?" He asks it like he doesn't much care for the answer. I try not to let it infuriate me.

"I don't know, maybe it's a new side effect connected to my blindness. Why don't you go look it up? Since you seem _so_ interested." Sarcasm, I think that's how I'll fight back.

I don't think my head can take much more pressure. I swing myself back onto the rafter, just in time to hear Myra say, "Maric, you bastard, she's a guest and look how you're treating her! You can sleep in my room, we're taking yours until you apologize." She sounds outraged and the sound of her teeth is audible even from up here.

"I have nothing to apologize for, I've said nothing harmful," he says firmly. Nothing to apologize for?

"Myra's right, you are a bastard." It's probably an unneeded comment but it feels _so_ good to say it.

Myra nods, I think, and says, "it's not what you say, Maric, it's how you say it. Now get out before I decide to punch you." I think she means it. I hear the door slam and footsteps going down the hall.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you've argued like this before." It's not a question, it's a statement.

"Of course. He has absolutely no compassion and it makes me angry. He's a real bookworm and a serious musician but it's almost as if he has no emotions whatsoever. And did you see that arrogant walk of his? Makes me so mad." I think she's done ranting, now I can speak.

"If I _could_ have seen how he walks, I'm pretty sure it would be very arrogant. His tone says it all," I say, not in the least bit offended.

Myra gasps, "I'm sorry Nettle, I forgot! I was just so mad and—"

"That's alright, I don't mind," I interrupt.

"I don't know why but he's being so much colder to you than everybody else he's met. I bet it's because you're famous without even trying. As far as he's concerned, you've had a rich and easy life. Whereas we had a hard one." They way she says the last sentence reminds me of her brother, totally toneless. It seems I'm not the only one with a difficult past.

"I wonder if that's why he's a bookworm and a musician like you said. I know when I got free of my…my stepfather," I clear my suddenly dry throat and continue, "I found solace in acrobatics. I used to hide in the rafters whenever he got drunk because…he used to beat me then. It was the only place he couldn't reach me." I didn't mean to tell her that. I guess because she's scarred by her own past, I felt I could share mine.

"Did that have anything to do with your episode before?" She asks, her voice now sympathetic. I hear the creak of the bed below me as she sinks on to it.

"Y-yes. I'm afraid that all this fame might attract my stepfather." I stop suddenly afraid to speak. "I-I don't want to talk about it anymore." I'm not ready to talk to anyone about him much. It's been only been a short while since then. I hear the bed creak again as she shifts around, obviously uncomfortable.

"That's fine. This conversation got awfully heavy didn't it? Well, feel free to talk to me anytime. I have to go downstairs to the Court for a while. I'm Nathan's second bodyguard and it's almost my shift." I can feel her reluctance, it's pretty evident in how she speaks.

"All right. What should I do in the meantime?" I ask. I certainly don't want to sit around here doing nothing.

"You can go to sleep, if you're tired. If not, let's see, I'll send somebody up with some books and a meal. I'm pretty sure our library has some books for the blind, used to have a blind thief working here," she says distractedly. She gets up and the bed groans in relief. She opens the door and, standing in the doorway, she turns around.

"And as much as it pains me to say this, if you need anything, Maric is right across the hall. He may be an arrogant bastard sometimes but he'll be sure to help you anyway, or else," I don't doubt the 'or else' part. Myra may be very kind but I'm sure she's also very formidable when she's angry.

"Ok then. Thanks for everything, Myra. I'll see you when you get back," I really don't want her to leave me alone though. It's also too much to ask her to leave the Rogue unguarded just because I can't stand to be alone for a few hours, I remind myself.

"Ok then. Goodnight," she says.

And then she's gone, shutting the door behind her. Immediately I feel scared. Wonderful. How am I supposed to get to sleep now? And to add to my misery, a low buzzing starts in my ears and gets louder until they are ringing with the volume of the voices. I swing down from the rafter and land loudly on top of the bed. I hope I didn't break it. I lay down and turn my head toward the ceiling, trying to remember the notes to my made up lullaby. After a few minutes of trying different sequences of notes, none of them sounding familiar, I give up. Everything that's happened today must have pushed it out of my mind.

Then I hear that same violin that was playing last night playing again, this time closer. The voices quiet. Curious, I get to my feet and go out into the hall. It's coming from the room that Myra said Maric was in. I try to force myself to turn around and go back into the room but I'm mesmerized by the sound of that violin. I move closer and stick my ear to the door. The floorboards creak beneath my feet and unfortunately Maric hears this. He stops playing, opens the door quickly, and I stumble into the room, having leaned too heavily on the door.

"What do you want?" He asks coldly. I expected that. I just don't have enough time to come up with something other then that I heard him playing and was so enchanted that I stuck my ear to his door. I wonder how that would go over with him.

"Well?" He prods impatiently.

"None of your—" I cut myself off. I hear a low whistle like something slicing through air. Automatically, I expand my Sight and sense something whizzing through the air towards the open window to the right. If it keeps its trajectory, it's going to hit Maric. I don't think, I act. I run forward and smash into him, knocking him over. I think my Sight must've been off a little. I thought we would both dodge it. I realize my mistake when I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder and numbness spreading from where it hit. I'm an idiot, should have just let it hit him. I can tell it's a deadly poison by the symptoms. I read about it in a book Irial gave me awhile back. Can't seem to remember the name though, I think, as I crumple to the floor, paralyzed. My Sight is going haywire and I feel more helpless than earlier today when I was lost in that crowd.

"Can you speak?" I hear Maric's voice in my ear. For once, he sounds anxious, maybe even worried.

"Jush a wibble." I whisper through my numb lips.

"Don't try to move, I'll be right back." The problem with that is; I'm probably dying. The last thing I want is the only person who's with me at this time to leave. Despite my dislike of him. So I suck up my pride.

"Don' go," I whisper, "pease." I feel ridiculous saying it, seeing as my words are coming out as baby talk, but it has the desired effect. Instead of leaving he shouts down the hallway for a healer, as loud as he can. I can hear running feet almost instantly but I'm starting to lose consciousness, all sound is fading. Maric sits down somewhere beside me without a word.

As I feel my eyelids close, I hear him whisper: "You'll be fine."

I most certainly won't, but it's the thought that counts. The running feet enter the room and I can hear a gasp that sounds like Myra before I'm gone. (A/N: I would leave off there but I don't want my readers to throw anything at me.)

My head throbs. I groan and roll onto my belly, burying my face in the pillow. This is a very comfortable bed. I wonder why I'm not dead. Why don't I ask one of the four other people in the room? I flip back onto my back and try to recognize the signatures. I'm in the room with the rafters again so, that's a desk in the corner. I think the one sitting at the desk is Maric, Myra is on my right side, Lucas and—

"Irial!" I shout, my voice a little hoarse. I'm so glad to see her. Slowly, careful of my head, I raise myself into a sitting position.

"Hi, Netty, how are you feeling?" I knew she'd be worried but her voice sounds beyond worried.

"Considering I should be dead, I feel great." That's true too. I'm actually very happy to know I'm alive.

"You should be, that was a close call. You should thank Maric for calling us all up there when he did, any later and you _would_ have died," Lucas says from my left side.

"Thank _him_?" I say indignantly at the same time Maric says, "Thank _me_?" taking me by surprise. I didn't think he'd acknowledge the fact that I saved his life.

"Did I miss something?" Asks Lucas, confused.

"A poisoned dart was shot through my window. Nettle had been in the room with me and knocked me out of the way. I suppose she used her Sight." He turned the last sentence into a question so I answer.

"I sensed it coming through the window, it was heading towards Maric. I miscalculated the distance, I think. Neither of us were supposed to get hit." Sighing, I lay back down again. Everything is happening too fast, it's making my head burst trying to process it all.

"Two attacks on the Court in one day. You'd be an idiot to believe that it's just coincidence. I think Luis has finally declared open war," muses Myra.

"Then wouldn't Lucas and Nathan also be targets?" I ask.

"Probably. I think we're going to have to hole ourselves up in the Dove for a little while, double the guard," Lucas answers.

My eyes are closing again, being blind, I hadn't really noticed but apparently Lucas has.

"Time to get out Maric, she needs sleep. We can come by in the morning. See you later girls! Goodnight!" He says and, head throbbing as it is, I sense him move his head closer to Myra's for a minute, pull back with a tiny sucking sound, and then leave the room, Maric behind him.

"What was that?" I ask, wondering what that curious motion Lucas made was.

"Um..that was..a..kiss," Myra replies shyly. I wonder if heat is rushing to her face in a…I cast around for the right word…blush like I did after my performance in Port Caynn.

"What, exactly, is a kiss? I've heard of them in books but obviously I've never seen nor sensed nor felt one before. Do you mind explaining?" Even though my eyes are fully closed now, I feel awake enough for a conversation.

This time Irial speaks up, her voice, surprisingly, just as shy, "When you're in a relationship with a guy it's normal for him to show affection by putting his lips to yours."

I giggle. "So he just…? That's so cute!"

I think my response thoroughly shocked them. Irial gives a snort and Myra chokes on something. Maybe she was drinking a glass of water. I definitely sense something in her hand that has a similar signature to a glass.

"I think we should all go to sleep now though. Goodnight Myra, goodnight Irial!" I say as I roll onto my side and pull the covers higher. They say goodnight back and I can hear them shuffling as they lie down on what I believe is cushions on the floor. I let myself drift to sleep.

In the morning I wake up to find Irial and Myra's signatures have already left. Instead, I can sense Maric's signature.

"Don't you think it's a bit creepy to watch a girl while she sleeps?" I can hear him start at my words, the floorboards creaking. They really need to do some work on this building. They call this place a thieves hideout? You wouldn't be able to sneak from one side of the room to the other.

"I was waiting for you to wake up," he says, trying to keep his composure.

"I bet," I say sarcastically. "What do you need me for?" I'm actually curious as to why he would come and wait for me to wake up when we share a mutual dislike for each other.

"I wanted to say thank you." Did _not_ see that coming. He even sounds genuine. It has to show on my face because he quickly says, "I just thought that in light of what happened to you because you saved me that the least I could do is say thank you."

"Well, I appreciate it but," my voice turns knife sharp, "you still owe me."

I hear him sigh. "I expected as much. What do you want then?"

I think back to his violin playing yesterday and how it made the voices go away. He wasn't even playing the lullaby I made up, how could he? It seems the instrument itself can stop the annoying yet prophetic, as I recently discovered, voices. I can't explain the specifics to him, but if I could learn how to play violin, maybe I could control the voices too. I make my decision.

"I want you to teach me how to play violin." A long silence follows my request.

"Might I ask why?" he asks, finally, sounding utterly bewildered.

"I have a, er, problem that can be soothed by the sound of the violin and I would like to learn how to provide that for myself. You only have to teach me until Friday. After that we're heading out again," I explain. He clearly considers it for a bit and then speaks.

"I'll do it. You'll have to stay at the Dove though, because I can't leave and you probably won't want to walk here every day for the next five days. I will warn you now. You won't learn very much in such a short time and I'm not a very good or patient teacher." He probably tacked that on so I'd change my mind. Not going to happen.

"Great. Get out so I can get dressed. Then we'll start." I start to get out of bed but then I hear a gasp and sense Maric turn around. Why would he gasp, why is he turning around?

"What's the matter with you?" I ask, standing up completely and feeling thoroughly irritated.

"Your nightgown," he says and he sounds extremely uncomfortable, "it fell off."

"Oh. No big deal. Can you pass me some clothes then, if it bothers you so much?" Why would me being naked bother him so much? I wonder…

"Am I ugly?" I blurt out. Looks shouldn't matter to me but for some reason some of the books I've read with beautiful princesses and ugly hags are coming back to me. I, of course, can't imagine beauty, but it seems to matter a lot to people.

"That's a very awkward question that I'd rather not answer," he says evasively, sounding still more uncomfortable as he hands me some clothes. He's facing away from me still and hands them backwards so with my limited Sight, I don't quite catch them. He turns back towards me, his head towards the ceiling, I think, and grabs the clothes off the floor. This time he grabs my hand and puts the clothing in it.

"Why is it awkward?" I ask, confused.

"I don't want to have this conversation with you." I've never heard someone sound as uncomfortable.

As I pull on the clothing, I mumble, "So I _am_ ugly. You haven't cared about hurting my feelings before now, so why so considerate all of a sudden?"

"Why is it that when people say they don't want to answer a question, the person always jumps to the negative answer? Did you stop to think that maybe I didn't want to answer because I'd have to say you're beautiful? Or that it's because it feels wrong to say that to a girl who's more worried about whether she's beautiful when she doesn't even know what that means than the fact that she's naked?" He mutters angrily. In the past fifteen minutes, he's shown more emotion than I thought was even possible for him. Maybe I should strip in front of him more often.

Then his words start to sink in.

"I didn't think…that surprised me. Sorry," I say, now uncomfortable myself.

"Am I going to teach you how to play or not?" He says impatiently. He's facing in my direction, now that I'm dressed.

"Sure, let's go." And I follow him out the door.

* * *

More to come soon, I hope. Please please PLEASE review. I was really nervous about this chapter so I definitely want your opinions. Oh yeah and happy september (if your in school, you'll get that this is a joke)! Love to hear from you. ~Polaris ;)


End file.
